Lahat ng Kabanata ng Craving My Mafia Obsession : Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

MICHAL’S POV The walk to lockdown two was quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet — the kind that coils around your spine and whispers that something is about to snap. Sebastian was on my left, all dark focus and barely contained violence. Luca was on my right, his hands shoved into his pockets like he wasn’t sure if he belonged in this lineup. He did. We reached the steel door. Two guards flanked it, weapons out but muzzles low. One of them nodded at Sebastian. “She’s been talking to herself. Laughing.” Sebastian’s jaw ticked. “Open it.” The guard swiped his key card. The lock disengaged with a heavy clunk. The door swung inward. Mireille sat on the cot in the far corner, wrists cuffed to the chain bolted into the wall. Her injured shoulder was bandaged. My orders — but the blood had seeped through in a dark, ugly bloom. She looked up when we entered, her mouth curling into that same infuriating smile. “Well, if it isn’t the three musketeers,” she said, voice hoars

SABRINA’S POV I’d been leaning back against the pillows, pretending to listen to Shelly talk about baby names, when I felt it — the way the quiet wasn’t quite right. Too tight. Too still. Then came the sounds. Distant at first, like the house was holding its breath and something outside was pressing against it. Shelly stopped mid-sentence. We both looked toward the door. Sebastian was there before I could even ask what was going on. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a calm that didn’t fool me. “Stay in bed. Don’t move. Michal and Luca are outside.” The way he said the word outside made my stomach knot. The first crack of gunfire snapped the air in two. It wasn’t loud enough to be in the yard right below us, but it was close enough that the windows caught it, rattling in their frames. My hand went instinctively to my stomach. Shelly was already moving to the window, then stopping halfway like she’d remembered she wasn’t supposed to. She came back to the

Sabrina’s POV Continued The hallway changed—quiet, then a scuff, then the split sound of someone choosing left and someone choosing right. The men took their positions. I could map them by their breathing now, the way Sebastian’s settled into a slow, predatory rhythm. The way Luca’s came with that little hitch like he was timing himself to someone else’s steps, and the way Michal’s.. God. The way Michal calmed even as the world outside sharpened its teeth. The first test came quickly. A hand brushed the splintered edge of the door, fingers searching for weakness. Sebastian’s gun came up; he didn’t fire, he waited, the patience that makes men cry. The hand stilled. Drew back. The second test wasn’t a hand. It was a voice—a woman’s, amused and wrong through the wood. “You’re making this more expensive.” The name rose in my throat like bile. Nora. But it wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her. The vowels were off, the music wrong. This was a mimic, a tape played through bad sp

Michal’s POV Smoke clings to the walls like ghosts. The mansion isn’t just wounded—it’s gutted, bleeding, breathing its last. Every corridor is scarred by fire, every marble floor slick with blood. Our boots crunch over glass and crystal, and the only thing louder than the ringing in my ears is the rasp of my own breath. We’ve been fighting for hours—or maybe minutes. Time has no meaning in war. All I know is the screaming has faded. The footsteps that once thundered through these halls are gone. What’s left are groans of the dying, the slow drip of water from ruptured pipes, and the metallic tang of death in the air. And through it all, one thought hammers inside my skull like a drumbeat: Where is she? Where is Sabrina? Henry wipes his blade clean on a dead man’s shirt. Trevor rolls his shoulders, blood streaked across his arms like war paint. Garrett’s breathing hard, his rifle still raised, eyes scanning the shadows like a hawk. But it’s Sebastian’s face that st

Michal’s POV I thought I knew what fear was. I thought I’d faced it before—on the streets, in shootouts, in wars I never asked to fight. I thought the cold pulse in my veins when bullets screamed past my head was fear. Or the moments I watched Sebastian walk straight into fire and wondered if this was the day I’d lose my brother. Or the nights I held Sabrina while she slept, knowing the world would always want to break her. But all of that was nothing. Because fear was holding something so small, so fragile, so impossibly perfect… and realizing one wrong move, one wrong breath, could break her. My daughter. Aubree. The name still tasted unreal on my tongue. I’d whispered it the first time with disbelief, and now, as I looked down at her in my arms, it felt carved into my bones. Her weight barely registered—she was so light, softer than air, delicate as could be. Yet in my arms, she felt heavier than the world itself. Because she was the world now. My world. Her tin